


Make it Better

by KitsuneArashi



Category: Supernatural
Genre: AU, Do not repost, F/M, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, Other, Past Rape/Non-con, Threats of Rape/Non-Con, Violence, based on a true life experience
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-05-01
Updated: 2016-05-01
Packaged: 2018-06-05 15:56:49
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,431
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6711568
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/KitsuneArashi/pseuds/KitsuneArashi
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sam is 6 months old and Mary is at home with him and Dean when Azazel breaks into the house in what becomes the most terrifying night of their lives.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Make it Better

**Author's Note:**

> This fanfic is based off something that actually happened to me and as such was difficult to write. Sorry if the flow and detail gets a little rushed in the middle of it.

 

"Are you sure you don't want me to stay?" John Winchester asked as he checked his reflection in the mirror by the bedroom door.

 "Just go." Mary giggled, brushing her blonde hair while she watched him. "I'll be fine for just one night. Go have fun with your friends for once. "

 "Alright" He said brightly, pressing a light kiss to her lips. "I love you." Mary smiled to herself and followed him downstairs, watching as he kissed the boys goodbye. Little Sammy in his high chair, spaghetti everywhere BUT his mouth, and Dean only 4 years older than his brother but still trying to take care of him, patiently handing the spoon back every time Sam threw it onto the floor.

  _My family._ Mary thought to herself, smiling fondly at them.

 

John left for the night while Mary went to give Sam a bath, his delighted giggles echoing in the bathroom when she flicked some bubbles towards him. He was 6 months old today and, not for the first time, Mary marveled at how fast he was growing. Soon he'd be Dean's age and going to pre-k and Mary wouldn't know what to do with herself.

"Dean sweetie? Can your bring Mommy a towel please?" Mary called out down the hallway.

"Sure!" His voice came quietly from his bedroom and after a few moments he appeared in the doorway with the fluffy white towel in his arms, his green eyes sparking with mischief as he moved it away as his mother reached to take it.

 "Cut it out Dean-o" She giggled, reaching for it again, only to have him pull it away. He squealed with glee as she grabbed his sides, tickling him and taking the towel away to pull a yawning Sam from where he sat sleepily in the tub. Mary dressed Sam and put him into cot in the nursery. "Goodnight Sammy." She whispered, kissing his hair softly, before leaving and closing the door behind her.

 

Dean stood by the bookcase in his room when she walked him, he was trying to choose which story he wanted to hear tonight. Eventually he settled on the Tales of Benjamin Rabbit, it was his favorite, Mary had read it to him often. She picked him up and carried both him and the book to his bed, tucking him in tightly and sitting beside him, leaning together against the bedhead while she read, his small hand resting on hers softly. By the end of the story Dean was asleep. Mary put the book away and dimmed his light. She leaned back down and pressed a kiss to his unruly brown hair. "Goodnight Dean, Angels are watching over you."

 

Once she was back downstairs she started cleaning up the spaghetti sauce and pasta  and was mostly done when he phone dinged with a text message. Smiling to herself she flipped open her phone to check it, assuming it was from John.

 It was not.

 It was from a number she did not know. "Whore" was all it said.

"Who is this?" Mary replied, after a while with no response she shrugged and flicked on the TV.

 

Half an hour into the movie she was watching her phone dinged again. It was from the same number as before.

"I'm sorry, I didn't mean that. Please don't be mad at me. I love you." Mary was sure that it was a wrong number and she responded saying as much.

 After that she started getting more messages, they were ranging between cursing at her and apologising and Mary had no idea who they were from and if they were even meant for her until a message that left her a little shaken. "You're such a tease Mary." After that the messages stopped and Mary resumed watching the TV but she couldn't really get into the movie again.

 

Scraping and banging startled her out of her seat, it had been coming from the external balcony, upstairs. Mary reached down into the couch cushion and pulled out a wrench that she had hidden there, John had always laughed at her for hiding weapons around the house, but right now she was glad she had. Creeping quietly upstairs, Mary could feel her chest tightening in anxiety. By the time she reached the landing the balcony door was open and the smell of alcohol washed over her from the man standing in front of her.

 "Azazel?" She gasped, panic clamping down on her as she looked up at the man who had just broken into her home. The man who had once been her friend, who had drugged her and raped her over a year ago. The wrench slipped from her fingers uselessly. Her chest heaved and her knees went weak at the panic attack took over her. The brown haired man just looked down at her and walked by, heading downstairs into her kitchen.

 

Mary fought hard to regain control of her emotions, her thoughts still panicked and skittering. As she was finally able to stand back up on her shaky legs, Azazel came out of the kitchen, running his hands across her walls, leaving bloody trails everywhere he touched. He walked into the living room and sat down on the arm of the couch, watching the doorway intently.

 Mary stared at the blood; it was everywhere, blood drops on the floor, on the carpet, on the couch and even on Dean's little painting easel. Azazel was playing with a fresh stab wound on his upper arm, rubbing the puncture and watching as the congealing blood would leave a trail from the wound to his finger. His brown hair hung down over his face and his eyes looked yellow from where she sat.

 

"What are you doing here, Azazel? Get out!" Mary was anything but calm, her heart beat wildly and her vision was blurred. Azazel finally spoke, raising his eyes to hers, still playing with the blood.

"Blood everywhere." He said in a monotone, his yellow eyes looking straight through her. The coiling fear in her gut snapped, terror flooding her entire being. Mary backed out of the room and started up the stairs, her fingers fumbling on the buttons trying to call John as she moved. Reaching the landing she turned around and saw that Azazel was following her.

She kept moving, trying to place herself between the stairs and the children's bedrooms. Mary turned around, her back against Sam's nursery door. Her legs failed and she slid down the door, only barely noticing that the call to John had connected and he was calling her name. She didn't have time to bring the phone to her ear, to ask for John to come and help her. Azazel was pacing on the landing, looking at the small length of stairwell separating them, suddenly he ran up the remaining stairs towards her, his face a terrifying mask. A shriek was ripped out of her chest and she distantly heard the sound of John screaming her name through the phone at her side.

 

Sam woke up in the room at her back and started to cry, halting Azazel  in his tracks, he took a step back and started to repeat over and over, his voice still flat and monotone "I heard there was a kid, I bet he's mine, get away from my kid. He's mine".

 Mary didn't move, so he began to shout, the same thing over and over, grabbing at her hands and trying to drag her towards the stairs. A second shriek escaped as Mary felt herself again at the mercy of Azazel, her fear leaving her paralyzed. Azazel was startled by the scream and let go, thudding back down the stairs, smashing the walls with his fists and throwing the children's toys around the rooms below.

 

Mary realized the phone call was still connected when the shouts of her name turned frantic and the call suddenly cut off. The realisation that someone knew she was in trouble and that John was likely on his way helped her fight her own fear enough to move. Azazel was downstairs destroying everything he could reach, Mary took this opportunity to drag Dean from his bed and into Sam's nursery, she pulled Sammy out his cot and hand him to his brother while she tried to move the cot in front of the door, desperate to keep Azazel from entering.

 The next thing she knew Azazel was back upstairs bashing on the door trying to get in, stabbing at it with a big knife from the kitchen, the tip of the blade would show through the door at intervals. Dean looked terrified and Sam was screaming in his arms.

 

As Azazel started to ram his body into the door Dean rushed over, Sam still in his arms, to throw his own small body weight against the cot with his mother. A hard bang into the door sent the cot shoving forward, the momentum knocking Dean off balance and Mary leapt forward to catch Sammy before he could fall from his brother’s arms. And that was all Azazel needed, the door opened enough for him to get his arm through, still bleeding from the stab wound in his arm, knife still clutched tightly in his hand. He shoved harder and blood dripped into Sammy's cot, crimson dots blooming on the white sheets.

 

Mary quickly grabbed for Dean and pushed him behind her trying to shield him behind her body, Sam clutched to her chest with her other arm. Azazel stepped into the room, and looked down at her.

"Give me the child." He demanded. Mary backed away, her eyes darting between the knife and his face. "Give him to me!" He roared, reaching forward, his own blood dripped off his arm and onto Sam's face and pajamas.

 

Suddenly there was banging at the front door, loud enough to startle Azazel who jumped up and ran out of the room to investigate. Mary pushed the cot back against the door and tried to soothe Sam and Dean, peppering their faces with kisses and holding them tightly against her white nightgown. Someone tried to open the door to the nursery, and panic started to rise in Mary's chest again until a familiar voice called out.

 

"Mary?"

"Bobby!" It took everything Mary had to not faint from relief. She opened the door slowly and relaxed when it was really Bobby Singer in the hallway, his face showing concern and tightly controlled fury.

"John called me as soon as the call disconnected you." He said softly, before adding darkly "Go, he's coming back". Bobby lightly pushed Mary back into the nursery, out of sight.

 

Bobby stood in the hallway between the stairs and the nursery as Azazel came back into sight. He wasn't looking upstairs but staring blankly into nothing.

"Mary, why don't you call Winchester and have him come to save you?" Azazel's voice was mocking.

 "He's on his way." Bobby spat bitterly, his voice apparently a surprise to Azazel who snapped his head up to glare hatefully at the man standing between him and the nursery. Azazel stalked back down the stairs, but Mary had no other clue as to where he went or if he were still in her house or not. Bobby did not think it was a good idea to leave them unattended to go and check.

 

Minutes passed and sirens blared loudly into the night. Outside was a cacophony of noise. Mary paid it no mind as she sang quietly to Sam and Dean, soothing them to sleep.

 

_Hey Jude, don't make it bad_

_Take a sad song and make it better_

_Remember to let her into your heart_

_Then you can start to make it better_

 

_Hey Jude, don't be afraid... don't be afraid…_

 

"Mary! Oh my god! MARY!?" John Winchester's voice cut through all the other noise and Mary barely waited for Bobby to help her shift the boy's from her lap to his before she was running out of the house. Outside police were everywhere, Azazel was in the middle of the lawn muttering quietly, his hands cuffed behind his head, police still had guns trained on him and others had their holsters unbuttoned just in case.

 Mary saw none of that, all she saw was the black Impala on the street and John was running towards her and she was falling. Sobs breaking out of her so hard that she couldn't get a breath in around them. John's arms were around her and she fisted his shirt, pressing her face to his chest while she sobbed.

 

They stayed like that while the police lifted Azazel to his feet and pushed him past them to the wagon. Mary flinched when she heard what he was muttering as he passed them. "He's mine. It's too late. He's mine now."

 Rage flashed across John's face as he helped Mary to her feet, helping her back into her ruined home and he swore when he saw the destruction inside. Outside the wagon holding Azazel pulled out of the drive and we could hear him as he yelled out the grating on the side of it "I'm going to kill you, you fucking whore!"

 

John held onto Mary's shoulders while she showed the police around downstairs and explained what had happened. She took them upstairs and stopped cold. There, right outside the nursery door, written in Azazel's blood was Sam's name. The nursery door itself was a mess of slashes and holes.

 Mary shuddered. _I wish we could burn this place to the ground_ ,  she thought bitterly averting her eyes from the bloodied text.

 

The next few months were some of the most difficult she had ever faced, there was police stations and statements, and court houses and lawyers, doctors and tests. There was the uncertainty of if some of Azazel's hepatitis riddled blood had gotten into Sammy's mouth and there was the treatments just to be sure. The same tests and treatments Mary had had to endure just a year ago, after the rape. 

 

John squeezed her hand lightly as she handed him the box from the moving van. "It's alright Mary, you're safe. They're safe."

 Mary looked over at Dean when he was sitting on the front lawn of their new home, his arms open wide and encouraging a newly walking Sam to step towards him, laughing kindly every time he'd fall backwards onto the padding of his diaper.

 She smiled. _We're safe._ She thought, finally relaxed. _Everything might not be perfect but we’ll make it better_.

 


End file.
